


letters, mingled souls

by imbellarosa



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon verse, Changing POV, Happy Ending, Kind of takes you through the whole series, M/M, Minor Character Death, and mentions of more angst, death of a child, epistolary form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 22:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15761019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imbellarosa/pseuds/imbellarosa
Summary: After the beach, Erik has something to say. So does Charles. And Hank. And Nina.OrThe one in which everyone writes letters because talking is hard, but it's easy to say what you think when no one will ever read it.





	letters, mingled souls

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [书信与交织的灵魂 | letters, mingled souls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165985) by [Amaranth42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaranth42/pseuds/Amaranth42)



> This is the second Xmen fic I've written, and can you believe that I still need to get to the original movies? This story is unbetad and all mistakes are my own, as are any inconsistencies. If you find any, let me know! 
> 
> As always, thanks to @belgianreader2 for being my first reader and cheering me on!

_ January, 1963 _

 

_ To the professor, _

_ It seems odd to call you ‘professor’, after everything. Still, it does rather seem as if I’ve lost the right to call you ‘Charles’.  _

_ I can’t hear your voice in my head anymore. I didn’t notice just how much of it you took until you were gone all of the sudden. And what’s left is the memory of a flickering flame against an old metal bed frame and a craving for ridiculously priced tea. _

_ You won’t receive this letter, of course. I wouldn’t even know where to send it. I’ve heard that you’ve opened a school for mutant children. It’s rather a disappointing thought that you’re so set in your ways - it could have been a brilliant opportunity to show the world who we are, what we can do. Still, I suppose some things can’t be helped. _

_ Sometimes I wonder what the world would sound like if I took off the helmet - what it would feel like. Raven says that I’m hopelessly sentimental, but sometimes I think I can feel the places that your mind used to be, as if you had carved out a place in my head and made it your own. I don’t think I will ever forgive you for that.  _

_ As a side note, I hope Hank (or Beast, as it may be) isn’t still pining like a broken-hearted schoolboy; I’m rather afraid that she’s taken a liking to Azazel. He can be charming, in his own way, I assure you.   _

_ For all the rest of it, I hope that you can best remember me over a chess board,  as an old friend. I assume that the aftermath of the beach has not been lasting or traumatic, or I am sure your so-called ‘X-men’ (and really, Charles, can you be any more self-congratulatory) would have come looking for me.  _

_ I am glad that, though we may never meet again as friends, you find yourself well and in good health. My only regret is that we never did finish that last game. It was mate in two.  _

_ Signed, _

_ E. Lehnsherr _

  
  


_ *** _

_ November, 1963 _

 

_ Professor X, _

_ I’ve been arrested. I’m sure you’ve heard the news by now. I’ve killed the president, they say. The bullet did curve. I’m going away for a bit. Well, I’m not sure how long, actually. But it’s alright, I suppose. It isn’t as though I haven’t been locked away before. There will not be any metal this time, though. Security precaution, they call it. Still, I can’t imagine there will be a Shaw this time, either, so I figure it’s a win some, lose some scenario.  _

_ That day - the day Kennedy died - it was the first time I’d taken that helmet off in years. And, somehow, I always figured your mind would be there when it was gone. Waiting to find me, to trap me, to bring me back. But instead, there was just...silence. The same silence that was there with it, and I can’t feel your mind anymore, and I can’t remember what it felt like.  _

_ Raven is safe. I promised you she would be, and I had sent her to the other side of the country in case this mission went sideways. You would be so proud of her - or maybe you wouldn’t, but you should be. She has saved so many mutants from fates worse than death, and she has never lost sight of who she is. In that way, and in many others, she is your sister.  _

_ Still, I assume you think I’ve murdered Kennedy as well. I’m angry at you, Charles, and there’s no point disguising it. Where are you? You could do so much for us, and instead you hide behind your school and your students. I haven’t heard much of your school lately, which is odd enough in itself, but you also seem to have disappeared - to abandon us when we needed you the most. I imagine, though, that you must be very happy. _

_ I’m going away now. For a long time, and like as not, I won’t see you again. I shall miss you, in my own way, old friend. As always, mate in two. _

_ Signed, _

_ E. Lehnsherr _

_ *** _

**December, 1963**

 

**Erik,**

**I’m writing this letter because Hank thinks I should. You won’t receive it, of course, just as I shouldn’t have received your other letter. The prison guards sent it when they went through your belongings.**

**If it were up to me, I’d never think of you again, even though I spend quite a bit of time thinking about you, anyways. But my mind couldn’t have found yours even if it had tried - a small parting gift from Cuba, I’m afraid. I can’t walk anymore, Erik. Well, not on my own, at least.**

**Hank has developed a serum to help me regain function of my legs, but the voices are gone. And yours has been gone longer than most. I don’t miss it, actually. It’s quiet now, too quiet, almost. But I suppose that’s what the bourbon’s for.**

**This is bloody stupid, you know. I haven’t anything to say to you anymore. Still, I always thought you were competent, at least. ‘You must be very happy’, my arse. I can’t walk, Erik. I have no school, no legs, no voices, and most of my students are either dead or gone.**

**And you are gone. I suppose you’ve been gone for a very long time, but you’ve** **_killed the bloody president_ ** **, Erik. You’re right. The bullet curved. You weren’t meant to be this, you know. Neither was I. We could have been so much more, it’s almost overwhelming, sometimes. It’s almost too painful to think on it.**

**You wouldn’t have won that game, by the way. I saw your knight coming. I would have had you in three.**

 

**Signed,**

**C. Xavier**

 

***

[The previous letter arrived at the Pentagon in an oddly addressed envelope with a note attached in scratchy, sideways writing. The note said the following: ]

December, 1963

 

Lehnsherr,

I can’t imagine you’ve thought about me in years. I think about you every day. You left him on that beach - left us. I don’t know if you killed the president, and, frankly, I don’t care. You killed him that day. You wouldn’t recognize him. He’s lost that laughter in his eyes. He doesn’t do anything but sit in his study, looking at an unfinished chess game, with an empty bottle of scotch beside him. 

Maybe we should have gone to find you, all those years ago. Maybe that would have been best, for both of you. But you had betrayed us, and we had a future. Sean is dead, by the way. Alex is missing. He’s been drafted, but we haven’t heard from him in months. I barely escaped the draft. I would have gone, if it weren’t for my eyes. Well, that, and my furry blue friend.

Honestly, I hope you rot. But I expect that we will see you again, eventually. So I thought you should know the truth.

Signed,

H.McCoy

 

[This note, and the letter attached to it, were placed in a locked box in the Pentagon with the rest of Mr. Lehnsherr’s possessions. The prisoner did not see it. ]

 

***

_ March, 1970 _

 

_ Charles, _

_ I haven’t written to you in years. I don’t know how many, exactly, but I know from the guards’ changing faces that I have been here for longer that I knew you. It does make me wonder why I am still writing to you. I think it is because you are unforgettable.  _

_ I have not become sentimental, you must understand, it is simply a fact. There are still spaces in my mind that are irrevocably yours. I do not know what you did to me, but when I try to fill them with my own memories, my own sentiments, my own mind revolts. It is painful, physically, to forget about you. Can your Phd’s explain that?  _

_ Sometimes, I wonder what happened to the children. I imagine that Sean continues crashing into trees and other large and unavoidable obstacles in his search for new heights. Beast must’ve found a way to make Alex’s  - Havok’s - aim more precise. Your trees will, I’m sure, sleep safer for it. And the new students. I wonder if there is one who can freeze the water in the summer, or melt it in the winter. I wonder if you’ve got one that could make the satellite point in its proper direction.  _

_ It is comforting, somehow, to know that life goes on, even as mine has frozen. I think what the world will bring in ten years, and I can no longer see the fire that I have so longed for. It leaves me feeling - empty. It really does.  _

_ Who knows? Maybe we’ll finish our game, eventually. _

_ Signed, _

_ Erik _

***

**August, 1973**

 

**Erik,**

**I think, maybe, I should have written more to you over the years. You would not have received them, of course, because I would have never sent them, but perhaps, had I said all I had to say then, we would not be in this situation now.**

**That being said, I waited before I wrote this letter, because I hope it will reach you, one day. For now, I’m putting it in a file with your name on it, in hopes that I can give it to you.**

**Firstly, I would have said that you’re wrong. It is not - it** **_cannot_ ** **\- be us versus them. That would be a detriment both to us and to them. Raven saved us that day, though you would not know it like I do. I saw him, you know. The older me. The older you. We were - happy.  It came at a price, but we had reached the sort of contentment that I desperately long for.**

**He said - well, I did, but that seems strange - he said that my gift was taking the pain of others and not breaking under the pressure. My friend, I dearly wish that I could take some of this pain from you. I reached out to you, for a few weeks after you had gone, but your mind was so tired, and you were so angry, and I understood that my presence was not wanted.**

**In another life, you loved me enough to stay despite of all the pain that you’d caused, despite losing the one thing that defined you above all else. And, somehow, we gave it back to you, together. We played monthly chess games in Hyde Park, and, when our family was harmed, we razed the earth to give our kind another chance. And now we’ve got it.**

**Perhaps, then, if you could love me that much in that life, in this one, I can do this. I can love you enough to allow you your life. I don’t know if I will see you again, or if when I do you will have become Magneto, instead of the man I met in the ocean all of those years ago. But know that I know, better than most, the man you could be, and I anxiously await his arrival.**

**You were right, by the way. It was not the knight I should have been watching out for, it was the bishop. You would have won.**

 

**Signed,**

**Charles Xavier**

 

***

_ May, 1975 _

 

_ Charles, _

_ I am getting married tomorrow. Her name is Magda, and she is a human. I can see the smirk in your eyes as I tell you this, you self-satisfied man. But, in this, I suppose, you were right. There is very little I would not do for her. The sentiment itself is not new, but knowing that she will stay, that I can have this - well, my friend, that is worth the lives of a thousand of the other humans.  _

_ She is pregnant, Charles. I’m going to be a father. I never really knew my own father - he’d fled to America and then had gotten stranded there, as my mother and I got stranded in Germany. They exchanged letters, for a time, but then the government stopped allowing foreign mail. Especially in the ghetto my mother and I lived. She wrote to him every night, even after she could stop sending the letters. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone that.  _

_ Five years ago, I said that I could not see a future for myself, and now - here it is. I do miss you, old friend, and my mind has not recovered, and will likely never recover, from your brief residence there, but I am happy. This is, I expect, the last letter I will write to you. I hope you are happy as well.  _

_ I do not know if I ever told you how sorry I am for what happened, on that beach. It was never meant to be you. I was trying to protect you - protect us all. It seems that I have rather spectacularly failed at being a hero. Maybe I will have a better chance at being a father. _

 

_ Signed, _

_ E. Lehnsherr _

 

***

[This is one of the many letters found in one of many boxes with the name ‘E. Lehnsherr’ written on them:]

 

**October, 1976**

 

**Erik,**

**There is so much life here, now. You wouldn’t believe what came out of our small ragtag group of mutants. The children are looking forward to Halloween, and many of them have decided to go disguised as themselves - I think you would delight in the number of headaches some of these students cause me.**

**Did you know, one of these days I found one of the teleporters inside the refrigerator? When I asked him what on earth he was doing, he calmly explained to me that he was playing hide and seek with our resident telepath (Jean, you remember her from my last letter), and that the refrigerator would block her powers. It had not, of course, but when asked why she hadn’t gone to find it, she said she thought it would be amusing if she let him think that he had won.**

**Hank turned blue in the face, and the curfew was - pushed up, shall we say. I think you would enjoy it here, my friend. There is, as always, a space for you here. The children, I think, would love to meet you. You are always their favorite character.**

**Sincerely,**

**Charles Xavier**

 

***

_ December, 1976 _

 

_ Charles,  _

_ I know I said I wouldn’t write again, but I saw your book. You wrote a book on the fragility of the timeline, and you inserted the nuances of mutant politics; how could I not read it? My wife knows that I knew you. She thinks that we must’ve been an odd pair, always vaguely antagonistic, even when we were on the same side. I could not bring myself to tell her that you were my closest confidant - that even now, I have corners of my mind that cannot be hers, because they are not mine.  _

_ I have a daughter now, Charles. She’s only a baby right now, but she seems to have a fascination with animals that is almost inhuman. I think, when it is time, I will send her to you. I know that you will care for her as you would any other student, and I do not think that anyone is more capable of loving children than you are. She has my mother’s eyes.  _

_ For the first time in a long time, I will be celebrating Chanukah. I will have someone to celebrate it with, and I will bring out an old menorah, almost identical to my mothers, though hers was lost in a long ago camp in Germany, and Magda will say the prayers, and that memory of mine, the one you gave back to me, will have been honored as it should be. It would be a lie to say that I do not miss you. I miss you as dearly as I would myself; sometimes, I wonder about what Logan said, about the world and the family that we were both saving and sacrificing together. I don’t know if I could ever love anyone like that in this life - even you. Even her.  _

_ But I have Nina here, and between her and all of the other what ifs, she will win every time. Sometimes, her smile reminds me of yours. I don’t know how this is possible, but it’s true. Still, I don’t think we will ever play another match. _

_ Yours, _

_ E. Lehnsherr _

***

[At this point there are multiple boxes, stacked in closets, with the words ‘E. Lehnsherr’ written on them in a professor's careless scribble.] 

 

**March, 1980**

 

**Erik,**

**It has been nearly twenty years since the beach. I don’t know why I was thinking about that today, but it has been on my mind for a while. It’s odd, but there is someone new trying to reach me. Telepathically that is. The voice is faint, and it is a child’s, but sometimes I can hear her whisper something to me, and it feels a bit familiar - bit like you. Perhaps that has made me nostalgic.**

**You’ll find this amusing, I think: there are some children here who have entered their ‘rebellious’ phases, and have taken to wearing t-shirts that say ‘Magneto was right’. Beast did not seem to think it was as amusing as I did, but I have managed to calm him down enough to where he can see the ‘freedom of expression’ point of view. He didn’t much care for it, but the shirts will be allowed in classrooms for now.**

**I should have known that you would find a way to cause trouble, even from a distance. It has been years since I have heard from you, my friend, even in the whispered voices of students and troublemakers that find us from time to time. It seems like you have disappeared altogether. I could find you, if I wanted to, I suppose. I could use Cerebro, or I could reach out to you myself. But the former seems unpleasant and impersonal to me, and the latter, I imagine, would be unwelcome.**

**Still, it would be nice to know where to send these letters. I have amassed boxes of them, I’ll have you know. They take up spaces in closets and under beds, nooks and crannies of this  house that will never again only belong to me. They were yours when you were here, and they will be yours long after you’ve left. I’m afraid I’m sentimental like that. You would not like it.**

 

**As always,**

**Charles Xavier**

 

***

[This letter is found in 1986 in a ruined house in Germany, written by a child’s hand and hidden under a now mangled metal bed. It is sent to the Xavier School for Gifted Students, as it is addressed to its headmaster, and he is not often in the habit of refusing to correspond with children. In particular, this letter, it seemed to the German policemen who found it, should be read by someone. It is not often that you can better the horrible mistakes that arise from fear and prejudice; he can, however, do this. The letter reads as follows:]

 

**_December, 1982_ **

 

**_Dear Mr. Charles,_ **

**_This is what papa calls you. Sometimes, he says it when he speaks aloud to himself, when he thinks no one can hear him. I don’t think I was supposed to find the letters addressed to you, but I lost my bunny, and I thought I might have left it under mama and papa’s bed, and I had, but also, I had to push a box aside, and inside the box there were all these letters and they were addressed to you, and I would have put them in the mail, but they didn’t have any stamps on them and stamps to London are expensive, and then what if Papa didn’t want you to have them yet? What if he was waiting for something? Or if he was going to give them to you when he sees you again?_ **

**_He says he’s not going to see you again, but sometimes I think adults keep secrets even from themselves. My papa has this metal chess set. He says he’s had it since before I was born, but he doesn’t tell me many stories from before I was born. He says they’re too scary. But I’m not scared of anything anymore. When I was little, like six, I was afraid of the dark, but I’m eight now, and I know better. Papa says there’s nothing in the dark that can hurt me. Especially since I can make friends with animals. They say they’re going to protect me, too._ **

**_But anyways, about the chess set. He sits there sometimes, moving the pieces, but I think he’s just playing old games. Like, I don’t think he’s actually playing - how can you play chess by yourself anyways? And he always makes the same moves, and he always stops before one side wins. He says, “mate in two”, and then he rearranges the board. He does it when he thinks I’m asleep, on nights that mama goes to bed._ **

**_I don’t think I’m going to write you another letter. I know that’s what papa always says, but he keeps boxes of letters for you, with your name on them. I don’t think he would do that if he wasn’t going to see you again. But I think I’m going to hide this under my bed - I used to think that monsters lived there, too, but there’s nothing but a loose floorboard._ **

**_I hope I meet you one day, Mr. Charles. I want to hear stories about my papa before I was born. One of the letters said that you used to live in my papa’s head. Is that your superpower? Like a hermit crab? What was it like there? I bet it was beautiful - like the songs grandma used to sing to him. Like a whole life that he lived before he had me. Why did you move out? Is it because you moved to London?_ **

**_Mama says I ask a lot of questions. She says I’m like papa that way. I don’t mean to be rude, especially because you don’t know me, but writing you makes me feel like I know papa a bit better. And that way you get to meet me. He says he wants you to._ **

**_Love,_ **

**_Nina Lehnsherr_ **

 

**[** It was the only letter found in the child’s room. She seemed to have fewer secrets from herself than the adults did. **]**

 

***

[Left on the Headmaster’s desk at Xavier’s School for Gifted Students not long after the renovations due to the damage from Apocalypse were complete:]

  
  


_ December, 1983 _

 

_ Charles, _

_ It’s odd, being back at the school, after so many years. The last time I was here was when Logan came to visit, and before that, well, not since 1963. I left the box with my possessions in the prison I was held in, when I was broken out by Peter. I hadn’t realized that you’d responded to one of my letters. I hadn’t realized that you’d received them. You were so angry back then. And McCoy - he added a note of his own. It was his right, I suppose, as he was the one that was forced to remain as your caretaker, to watch his new family die or disappear. I know the feeling all too well.  _

_ Sometimes I think that perhaps I should stay this time. I could be a teacher. The house, even now, is just how I remember it, with a few modest restorations. And still. There is so much of myself here. My room was untouched; there are students who know me, or would like to. You seem to be building a family, and everyone wants me to be a part of it. I would like to be a part of it. And yet. _

_ I have destroyed the earth, hoping that it would punish the world, the human race, for taking my daughter from me. You told me once that there were good men that did not deserve to die because they were just following orders - I wonder now, do I fall into that category? Oh, my friend, I have killed before, but they were Nazis and mutant hunters and murderers. But now. All of the men, women, and children that died when Apocalypse descended upon the earth - they were someone’s child too. I was following orders out of pain and grief and more anger than you can imagine, but some man’s daughter has died, just as mine has, and I cannot bring her back.  _

_ This is a journey I will make alone - and yet I cannot make it alone. I don’t know, yet, what I’m looking for. Maybe I’ll know it when I find it. There are some memories I must go back for, some wrongs I must right. And then I will come home. However, I am leaving my mind open, and, attached to this letter are locations which you can address correspondence to, if you wanted to communicate in a more traditional way. I know about your boxes. I have a few of my own.  _

_ Logan did say that there would come a time where we would be a family- I thought, when I had a different one, that it was either or. Now, despite the pain that I have felt, I am happy to know that, even with all the pebbles we have thrown into the stream of time, if you will allow me to use your metaphor, there are pools and streams and deltas that cannot change. The tide will fall into them as surely as the sun will set. This is how you can be sure of my return, even as I am yet unsure of it. I will be back - eventually. Until then, my mind is open, and will remain so. I think, in many ways, it feels more complete.  _

 

_ -Erik _

 

_ P.S. I have left a parting gift in your study. Beast told me to get rid of some of my damned boxes. He seemed surprised to learn they were yours. Honestly, do people think I’ve been shipping trophies of my malfeasance to you over all of these years?  _

 

***

**May, 1984**

  
  


**Erik,**

**I don’t write many letters to you anymore. Fallen out of habit, I suppose. It seems odd, when you consider that I wrote nearly daily letters for the last ten or so years, but it is so much easier to communicate telepathically. I know that you are aware that there is an out of the ordinary occurrence here at the school. I have told you that there is no danger, and therefore you are able to stay where you are at the moment (somewhere with sand, and a sun so hot that it nearly crystallizes the desert). I think I have managed you convince you that there is no danger at present, and yet I could not find a way to tell you of what I have learned.**

**Even after all of these years, some conversations are still difficult for me, and I find it easier when I can write everything down, dissect and break down my methods of communication. I can hear you in my head right now. You’re asking me what I’m up to. Writing papers, I say. Not entirely untrue. But I’m stalling.**

**Peter’s mother came to the school the other week with Peter’s twin sister in tow. Her name is Wanda, and she can manipulate energy, in a similar way to your powers with electromagnetic fields. This, of course, means that when she fails to control it, the consequences can be drastic. She had, apparently, manifested her powers later than her brother, though they seem to be more destructive. As it turns out, we have a new student.**

**Which is how I found out that you, my friend, are their father. You met their mother in New York, apparently, a year or so before we found you in that ocean. She couldn’t find you to tell you, and by the time you had resurfaced in the public eye, she had thought it best not to mention it. Peter did not know when he broke you out. He was, however, aware of it by the time we found you in Egypt. I imagine that he was afraid.**

**I have made it very clear to Wanda, Peter, and their mother that this is something I have no intention of keeping secret from you. You were a wonderful father to your daughter, and you have a right to know that you still have family, somewhere; more family than our odd bunch affords you.**

**If I may be so bold as to offer advice, I suggest a phone call. You know our number. You should talk to your children, and see what they think is the best course of action. They are adults now - people you should be proud of. Peter has started a track team and is coaching some of the younger kids. He is training under Beast and Raven, and they have had successes with the minor skirmishes they have encountered. Wanda is handling her foray into our world with strength and grace - she and Raven will be great friends one day.**

**I look forward to hearing from you,**

**-Charles**

 

***

_ May 1984 _

 

_ Charles, _

_ What the hell were you thinking, sending information like that in a letter? It took a week to arrive, and the whole time, I could feel your mind fidgeting in mine. I know that I’ve already screamed at you telepathically, but I felt this point bore repeating. And honestly, Charles, a phone call? I’ve bought a ticket back for a two-week stay in England. I know I haven’t given you much warning for this, but it isn’t so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?  _

 

_ -Erik _

_ P.S. I can’t believe I’m a father again. I can’t believe they’re grown. I wonder if Wanda has Nina’s eyes, or her smile. I wonder if Peter likes animals, or was afraid of the dark. I have missed so much already. I could not possibly miss any more.  _

 

***

**June, 1986**

 

**Erik,**

**I’ve found Logan. It has taken me some time, and he seems to be a bit worse for wear - (you asked him once what would happen if his claws were metal; you could find out now, I suppose) - but he is himself, though younger and brasher, and desperately infatuated with Jean. Which, of course, means that Scott hates him, and the air has become very animus lately. That isn’t what the letter’s about, but I thought I should update you on the status of our mutual friend before continuing.**

**Erik, you need to come home. I have not asked much of you these last years, partly for your sake, and partly for my own, but we are growing older, and it is time that we face the past with the courage that befits men of our age. I have received a letter from your daughter. Not Wanda, who continues to improve in leaps and bounds under Raven’s watchful eye - Nina.**

**She was eight when she wrote it - she says that she found your letters to me, and wanted to meet me herself. She said you wanted her to meet me - I suppose you meant she would have been a student, when it was her time. I wish I had gotten the opportunity to know her. She sounds wise beyond her years, and I cannot imagine what it must’ve been to lose her.**

**But you’re family is here, now. And we have waited long enough. Your room is being prepared, and we expect you back by next Monday. I have already drawn up a curriculum for a Mutant Politics class that you will teach. This is a request, of course, but it is not a request that I will make again. There is so much for you here, my friend. So much life, and hope, and determination. I do not think you will find what you are looking for out in the wide world, or in the dead forests of Germany.**

**You are alive, Erik, and so you must live. It is the burden that falls on all of us. There is an old metal chess set that waits for you in the study, if you think you can still beat me.**

**Always,**

**Charles Xavier**

***

[There are no more letters after that. Hank McCoy was glad to see that the boxes that had been piling up over the course of a decade disappeared over the course of two weeks. 

The Xavier School for Gifted Students is said to have one of the best courses on Mutant Politics in the world; the long-suffering headmaster attributes it to the head of the department, who insists on beginning each term wearing a T-shirt that reads ‘Magneto was right’. It remains a point of contention amongst the staff.] 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment and let me know what you liked, or even what you didn't! I really like engaging with everyone, and I read every single one twice. If you want to interact w me, come say hi at imbellarosa.tumblr.com. Thanks <3


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